


Take my hand and my heart and soul

by eldersmcpriceley



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Kissing, Credence is soft though, FBAWTFT, GRADENCE - Freeform, Graves isn't Grindelwald, M/M, Mild Smut, Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, One Shot, This is also kinda sad, i don't know what it is, its like after credence 'died' but in this fic he didn't, tbh it's not even smut, what is this mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 20:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8636509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldersmcpriceley/pseuds/eldersmcpriceley
Summary: Credence can't thank Mr Graves enough for taking him from his not-so-witchy adoptive mother but at least Mary Lou didn't make him feel like his legs were under the jelly-legs curse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't know why I wrote this but I needed a fic of Graves and Credence because I love them a lot (don't get me started on the ending of fbawtft, i'm in denial)

Credence didn't want to disappoint Mr Graves after he'd taken him under his wing. He was so thankful of everything Graves- well, mostly him- had done for Credence these past months and he promised himself he would do what he was told without his problem turning up out of the blue. Since the day he was set free from the Salems orphanage, Graves had been by his side, healing his wounds and keeping him safe at the Aurors house. The first place they travelled to (in a car, something Credence had never been in or dreamed of being in) was Macy's on 34th Street and Mr Graves bought Credence a new suit from a wizarding store that he'd never have know was there without Mr Graves' wand waving. It was much like his old one that Graves told him complimented his stance and unusual hair. It was nothing special to Graves but Credences suit was the one thing that Mary Lou could use against him, his belt, however now his trousers fit him so well he no longer needed a belt, so they didn't buy one.

As a new day sprung, the light from over Central Park burst through Credences new bedroom window and down onto his bed from above. The day was cold, he could already feel it on his bare arms that weren't protected from the winter air. His room was at the top of the house because Mr Graves had never thought of having children, he told Credence, therefore only had one room, his own. The floor Credence was now on used to be filled with old artifacts and school robes that Credence had never had the chance to wear. The bathroom was directly across from the bottom of his stairs and one or else two times he was sure Mr Graves forgot there was another person occupiying his house and he heard the clear sound of running water. 

Today Graves was going to MACUSA to examine the necklace 'Graves' had given Credence. They rarely ever spoke about what had happened before Credence moved in and he wasn't one to make awkward silence. Each morning of work Credence had realised that Mr Graves liked to shower then he'd wake up Credence to give him breakfast before leaving. Credence did some sort of housework while he was gone, and waited for him to come back home. Credence was surprised Mr Graves hadn't just hired a house elf to work for him when we found out what house elves could do.

Credence got up, eventually, and heard the shower running. That left the bottom floors off limits for at least twenty minutes. He pushed himself out of bed and swayed a little before moving towards the small pile of clothes he had at the other side of the room. He wasn't leaving the house today but he didn't like to look untidy for Mr Graves. He decided on wearing one of Mr Graves old shirts that he had given Credence and a new, creme armless jumper with thin red stripes. The shirt was white and smelt like old magic, or it could have been Mr Graves but Credence wasn't be sure. With the shower still running, he slipped into a pair of tailored trousers and waited for Mr Graves.

A bookshelf was placed just in front of the open stairs down to the first floor. The shelf was full of old scriptures about magic and potion making, territory Credence still couldn't believe he was associated with now. One particular book caught Credences eye, a deep purple spine with golden writing on the top shelf propped up by a scruffy brown bound journal. Credences morning eyes could just about work out the word 'trials' and nothing more. He wondered if it was anything to do with what Mary Lou spoke about in front of her pack of hunters. He reached up as high as he could and just about touched the spine before it jumped from the shelf, hitting Credence on the head in the process and falling down the open staircase and around the corner. Before it got half way down, Credence was off his feet and running after the book, sure he'd made a commotion too early in the morning. Just as he bent down to pick up the book, as if by magic a wooden plank from the staircase tripped him up, sending him down the last three steps and landing on his bum with his legs behind him in the doorway of a very warm and very open room. 

"What was that?" Credence heard Mr Graves mutter before he saw him, half wrapped up in a towel. 

"I'm sorry Mr Graves for interrupting your morning routine I think your shelf might be broken if that is possible and it's of course not your fault-" Credence blubbered with his head fixed to the floor, his legs trembling and trying to stop his yearning to look up.

"Credence," Mr Graves said calmly, re-tucking the towel around his waist before bending over to pick up the book that had fallen at his feet and frowning at the cover, "What is this, Credence?"

"It just caught my eye, I wanted to read before coming for breakfast when you were ready." Credence looked up when he felt no tention in the room apart from that of which he was making himself. He stumbled up from the floor, dusting off the new clothes when he was stood as straight as he could.

"As you fell did your shirt also become untucked," Graves smiled, he moved, almost glided, across from his place in the bathroom and lifted up the small jumper to Credences torso before slipping his hand down the lose trousers, taking the shirt with him, "Is this my shirt?"

Graves was now almost resting his nose on Credence's shoulder as he took in the smell. His hands had stopped tucking in the shirt around the back of the boys trousers and were resting in the small of his back "I think it's a little big for you." He said as he pulled the jumper further up Credence's body and eventually just over his head with reluctance but no struggle for the younger of the two.

"No, sir it's perfectly fine," Credence reassured. He was thankful of what he had got and it was much more than what he had previously. His heart was racing as his torso was colder and a shiver of cold went up his back from the only area the shirt wasn't tucked in, thanks to Mr Graves.

"I have smaller ones," Graves unbuttoned the top button. It was as if he was acting as though he wanted to get rid of the shirt for Credence's wellbeing but the tone of his voice was smooth, demanding otherwise.

"Sir-"

"Where are these from?" Mr Graves had the shirt undone and three quarters down Credence's arm. It hung from his elbows, exposing Credence and his plentyful scars and wounds.

"The orphanage, sir." Credence offered, looking down as he realised Mr Graves had backed off. 

"I told you to show me every scar, every bump, Credence, I am here to help you!" Mr Graves wasn't shouting, as such, just deepening his voice. Credence felt a warmth in the pit of his stomach in contrast to the fear he was feeling in his brain. They used to meet in alleyways, he couldn't just unbutton his shirt and show him. That would be worse than witchcraft, could you think what Mary Lou would do if he had a criminal record for indecency. A shame, it would be. "Look at me, boy!"

It turned out Grindelwald wasn't much different from Graves himself however Credence looked into Grave's eyes as softness flooded them and Credence was engulfed in a familiar hug, warmer than before that he'd had with the polyjuice Graves, however it was the same arms, the same breath on his shoulder. Hands gripped his jaw as he stood breathing heavily and unevenly. 

"I am sorry, Credence." Graves pulled slightly back, that same breath now on his face. Sure, Credence and Mr Graves has been close before but Credence was now feeling his personal bubble physically pop. With all strings cut, Credence shirtless and Mr Graves naked under his towel, their breaths became one as the idea of having a bubble was forgotten. Graves first moved to Credences nose before mounding their mouths together and feeling warmth on his lips. Credence had never kissed someone before apart from at night as a child, where Mary Lou would tuck him in and pray at the end of his bed. This kiss, however, was sinister in all ways. He could feel the heat from his stomach quickly diffuse around his body. Grave's hand moved to touch Credences jaw and he melted, taking as much in as he possibly could. This slight tilt of his head caused Mr Graves to move his lips and capture Credences bottom lip between his teeth before sucking on it and pulling away.

"I'll see you downstairs, Credence." Mr Graves smirked before his hand fell from Credences face which Credence almost didn't let leave his neck.

Credence snapped out of his warmed state and realised that he was back on earth, not in a delirium with Mr Graves.

"Of course, Sir." And suddenly Credence was cold again.


	2. Chapter 2

Credence didn't know how to use the toaster.

Usually, he'd come downstairs to Graves reading his paper (that had moving pictures, something Credence still couldn't get over) and a meal spread out in front of him. This time, however, Credence was alone and the paper hadn't arrived. So, naturally, he was left with the toaster and two pieces of brown bread.

He was sure that he'd need magic to work the contraption with the amount of leavers there were. He pulled open one of the metal sides and decided that that was where the bread went (or at least where he was putting it). He did the same on the other side before standing back to figure out what to do next. He pressed down the leaver on the side until something clicked and he presumed that the bread would be ready within the next few minutes. 

He sat on the couch, still flushed from his run in with Mr Graves. The moment was so surreal. One moment he was on the floor, whimpering as though he'd broken a leg, and the next Graves' body heat was warming Credences' heart.

Suddenly, he panicked. 

How was he supposed to act now that he'd kissed that man who had taken him in, who was slowly becoming home to Credence. What if everything soon turned ugly? 

He looked towards the other bookshelf that stood as tall as the ceiling, lined with books just like what he'd seen in his room. He started to wonder whether those books would soon realise he wasn't Mr Graves too and attack him.

Just as Credence turned his head to read the spine of one of the larger books, a pop in the background of his world startled him. He whipped his head round to see Mr Graves stood with a new piece of white bread in his hand next to the toaster. Only then did he realise the bread wasn't new and the popping was Mr Graves opening the toaster. 

"It would be helpful if you turned the toaster on at the plug socket if you want toast." Mr Graves chuckled as he flicked a switch on the wall. He was now dressed in his MACUSA uniform minus the jacket and much more laid back than Credence had ever seen him (meaning three buttons from the top of his shirt were open and his tie was hanging lose on his neck). 

"I've never had a toaster," Credence looked perplexed as Graves turned to reinsert the bread into the metal compartment and his shirt was tight on his upper back, "And you had nothing to make soup."

"Soup isn't a breakfast food," Graves furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and practically talked to himself.

"Mr Graves," Credence started, about to ask about the bookshelf before the man turned around to him with a cup in each hand. 

"Please call me Percival," Mr Graves, Percival, winced, "Mr Graves is for work, Auror business."

"Okay, Percival," Credence tested the name on his tongue, "I wondered if all your bookshelves were charmed, or however they are?"

"Is this for future reference?" Percival smirked, sitting beside Credence and putting the hot cup in his hand before resting his now free arm behind Credence.

"I just thought that when you were gone," Credence breathed staticky as Percival's hand got closer to his shoulder, "I could get to know your world better."

"Our world, my boy," He corrected, his voice smooth, "And I'm not going anywhere without you today."

"Sorry?" Credence was unsure of what Percival meant. He'd been to all the hearings that the Congree needed him for and Grindelwald was in Britain now, waiting to be put into there prison.

"You and me are going shopping." Percival took a large gulp from his tea before the toast popped out of the toaster and he ran around the kitchen surface to catch them. He took a bite out of one before cutting them both into halves and plating one and a half pieces. He walked back to Credence with the missing half in his hand, "Get eating up, Madame Stitches opens in twenty minutes."

And with a warm kiss on the forehead, Percival had left the room.

*

Credence had no idea who Madame Stiches was but with a name like hers, he should have guessed.

They'd appeared into a place that Credence had never in his life seen that looked like an old steam punk street in Britain. Madame Stiches' stood out due to the height of her building. It was at the end of the street beside what looked like an owlery, however Credence wasn't sure what an owlery looked like - he'd seen a sign with the word on it at the Congress.

Percival lead the way as soon as they'd arrived. Credence was a little sick from the feeling of being sucked through a straw and dropped into the new place but managed to keep up with Percival's long strides. 

As they walked in, a small bell rang and all movement stopped. Irons' stopped streaming shirts, needles paused while stitching buttons onto robes and scissors were held in mid cut, without the help of a human.

"Mr Graves, my dear, how are you?" She - a short but well built woman - came around the desk to Percival and engulfed him in an awkward hug as Percival's personal space was penetrated, something Credence had only seen happen once, and that was this morning.

"Good, Ms Stitches, thank you." Percival straightened himself out, coughing a little to unhinge the tention in his throat.

"And who are you, young man?" She turned to Credence who was startled by the energy she raidiated his way.

"Credence ma'am." He gazed up to her for a second before bowing his head, frightened he'd scare the happiness out of her.

"Ah, a follower, a believer," She smiled, her eyes widening and turning to Percival, "He compliments you well, knight of the round table."

Credence blushed, holding his head down. He could feel all eyes on him but his cheeks only flamed when Percival held his lower back.

"I wondered if you could make him some fitted shirts," Percival asked, slighly pushing Credence forward, "Mine are either too small or too large for him."

"Where did you get the poor boy from?" She took Credences arm, prying them up so she could measure his wing span and the length of his torso, "I may have some shirts to fit him already."

"No, Madame, I'd like them made from the finest, most expensive cotton you have," Percival stopped her, and in unison, stopped Credence as well. His eyes went wide as he looked to Percival who didn't look back.

"Mr Graves, that would be what I use for handkerchiefs and ties, far too soft for the making of a shirt." 

"Ms Stitches, who will be paying you?" Percival had become irritated. His eyes had closed and hands had tightened on the table behind him.

"Follow me, my dear, this man is about to spoil you rotten." She walked into the curtained room beside the payment desk with Credence at her heel, she shook her head and muttered as she went. 

A while after she had come out, long curly hair now tied up with a ribbon and face red. Percival had been levitating a box of pins while waiting and the pins dropped as she coughed.

"Percival, please," Credence revealed his head from around the curtain and waved his hand, pulling Percival closer. Percival walked to him, opening the curtain and gasping.

Credence stood in a silky, thin shirt that hung where his brittle bones curved and stopped where the cuts on Credences hands started. Percival was speechless, which was uncommon, but this saint-like sight had stolen his words. His pale skin now seemed human-like as the shirt was so purely white, Credence illuminated in it.

"Mr Graves, I can't let you buy me this." Credence played with the unsewn hem, his long bangs falling in his face.

"Credence, have you not seen yourself," Precival breathed, turning Credence to the mirror and standing behind him with his hand on Credences shoulder, cheek to cheek, "This is what you deserve."

"But, Sir, the price is-"

"Is something I can afford. I'm of high authority at the Congress and have a small apartment. I have nothing to spend my money on other than myself and food," Percival said to Credences reflection, "You need fitted clothes, I can aid you with them."

Credence didn't want to fight with Mr Graves. He broke eye contact with Graves and turned to him, still with his head down and began undoing the buttons. Mr Graves was much closer than anticipated. Credences head was practically on Graves' chest and as he came to the forth button, Graves put his hand on Credences jaw. Credence lifted his head and his lips made quick contact with Graves'.

His hands were still on his buttons but as Percival pulled Credence closer, his lanky arms were in the way and Percival guided them to his neck. Soon, their breath became ragged and Percival walked Credence to the wall, pulled out his wand and muttered, "Silencio."

"Perci," Credence mumbled, unable to get through to the end of the name.

"Please, don't call me Percy," Percival asked between kisses and heavy breathing, "You sound like my mother."

Credence soon pulled away, too out of breath and hazed to go any further. Percival, however, acted like he'd just started, kissing Credences cheek and across his cheekbone to his ear. He followed the curve of Credences jawline before Credence could say anything.

"Percival," Credence wined, trying not to seem too into whatever he was doing, "Stop, please. Stop."

After the second repetition Percival came up to Credences eyes, "What's wrong, are you okay?"

"Yes, just. I can't." Credence felt pathetic. Any other person Percival could have been with right now would have fallen at his knees, begged to kiss him. Credence, however, couldn't do this here; he felt wrong, dirty.

"I'm," Percival straightened himself up, pulling away completely and running a hand through this hair that was falling over his face, "Sure, exactly. Finite."

He moved gracefully out of the curtains and back to where he started before the curtains cut Credences view again. He realised that he'd just pushed away the man who was about to spend more on him for a t-shirt than had been spent on him ever in his life. 

He thought that was pretty idiotic


End file.
